


All Hail the King

by brevitas



Series: King Among Kings [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Medieval AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a Prince who lets his father, King Abelard, handle the politics of the realm. When he's twenty Abelard says he is to be married, and much to Grantaire's surprise, it's to a Southerner in order to strengthen an alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hail the King

**Author's Note:**

> important notice -- male/male and female/female marriage is tolerated in this land, though not necessarily encouraged. It almost never occurs within royal families but when it does, the general protocol to produce an heir is to have a mistress or a concubine. Unfortunately the general populace looks down on this behavior (especially in the North, where Grantaire lives), and it is by far more popular to name a relative or a close friend as heir instead.

"He is not my soulmate," she says calmly, as though they are talking of something as trivial as the weather. "But he is kind, and that is enough."

Grantaire watches her from the bed. He's twelve years old and his little sister is barely nine. She's being married to the prince of a nation across the seas, a country Grantaire has never heard of and does not care to remember. He nurses a bruise under the slab of raw steak he holds to his jaw as his father, King Abelard, had not tolerated his son's backtalk when he'd told Grantaire that Clemence was being taken away.

"She's too young!" He'd shouted, giving no thought to the splendor of the throne room and the advisors who abashedly averted their eyes. "She's not ready for marriage!"

His father had fought to control his temper but Grantaire had never been taught when to stop. The golden head of the royal sceptor had caught him under his chin and thrown him off his feet. "Leave me!" Abelard had shouted. "I will not see you 'til supper."

And Grantaire had left because he knew no good would come of their argument if he tried to fight anymore, and there was nothing to be done to help his sister. He sighs as he watches her pack, one knee drawn to his narrow chest.

"It's sad," he says, "That we are calling your husband only barely good enough." She smiles, a little, and he tries one on too. "I'm sure he'll surprise the both of us, Clemence."

He walks her to the front terrace when she's done, where a group of carefully selected guards waits to take her away. Some of her handmaids are coming with her and Grantaire is thankful for that at least, that she will not be totally alone. He kisses her cheek and tells her to write and they both cry, though it is for very different reasons.

He does not see her again until he is fifteen and she is brought home to be buried. Died after a difficult pregnancy, the people say, but Grantaire sees a shadow coiled around her throat that looks like a noose. He is quiet through her funeral, and does not speak to their father for eight months. Her daughter is called Abelard's ward and no one speaks of her mother (except Grantaire, who has begun drinking and will lay next to her in front of the fireplace when she's but a toddler and whisper to her stories of Clemence's life).

She's fourteen years younger than him and when he's nineteen and the palace doctor fears that he has drunken himself into a stupor, it is she who comes and sits at his side. She's only four but she keeps quiet and the doctors let her stay. She doesn't say anything to King Abelard when he visits and tousles her pale hair, and still makes no complaint while the King proceeds to bicker with the doctors. They say that they are afraid Grantaire will wake up with brain damage; Abelard dismisses that theory, and tells them that he will not have his sole heir be useless to him.

Grantaire eventually does wake up, two weeks after falling down the stairs and cracking his head open, and when his eyes flutter open it is Estee he sees. She looks remarkably like her mother, he thinks, his thoughts dizzy and aching, and she beams at him when she realizes he's awake.

King Abelard makes Estee leave so he can speak to his son and ends up shouting at him that he will not have a child of his behave that way. Grantaire does not rebuff his alcoholic accusations but he does not agree to stop either, and Abelard even goes so far as to tell him that if this happens again he will be renounced, stripped of the surname of the royal family.

"Fine," he says sharply, wielding the words like he's wielding a weapon. "It doesn't sound like our last name did Clemence a lot of good anyway."

Abelard backhands him, despite his recent head trauma, despite the way the doctors gasp from the hallway. The crack of his knuckles against Grantaire's cheek is unmistakable. "I am going to find a wife for you soon," he says calmly, wiping blood off his hand. "And you will say nothing on the matter."

And Grantaire doesn't, though he hates himself for it, and thinks of all the people who would love to be this close to the king just to say one thing to him. The commoners dislike Abelard for his strict laws and cruel enforcers and even Grantaire has noticed this; when Abelard turns to leave the room Grantaire savagely wonders how many folks would like to stick a knife in between his shoulder blades.

It takes Abelard a year to find him a match, and in that time Grantaire has practically forgotten of their arrangement. He's been spending more and more time outside the castle each night, sneaking out when it is the watchmen on duty who actually like him and climbing a vine back to his bedroom when dawn colors the sky. His guards know but they do not tell on him, and for that he rewards them handsomely. They all assume he's going out to drink, where it might be harder for his father to keep an eye on him.

In a way, that _is_ what Grantaire is doing; but he's also accomplishing much more than that, much more than he ever suspected he would.

It had begun as a way to pass the time; he'd been leaving the castle in the dead of the night to go down to the nearest city's bar since he was about sixteen, and all he would do is pay and drink. He's meticulous about wearing a hood and at first no one cares who he is.

But as the months go on he begins stealing larger sums of money from the treasury, and giving the gold pieces out as he walks to the bar. He pays people for doing him the smallest of favors, anything he can use as an excuse to give them gold, and when he tires of that, he begins giving them more substantial things; seeds for a crop the King cannot lawfully take, timber to give the local craftsman a job. Grantaire's drinking lessens, and on these days, he smiles.

Abelard invites him to breakfast one morning, purposefully declining Estee when she asked if she could join them. She's nearly six now and an absolute spitfire; Abelard sees her mother in her and fears her spirit but Grantaire congratulates her for her attitude.

Grantaire is buttering a roll when Abelard declares, "I have found you a husband."

Grantaire cocks an eyebrow at him. "I thought you disagreed with that custom," he remarks.

Abelard glares at him. "I do," he says irritably. "I believe it makes our kingdom look weak. Unfortunately we need this alliance, and King Ignace has only one heir."

"You'd think two men would make a kingdom appear stronger," Grantaire muses, and Abelard's eyebrow twitches in annoyance. "I have faith that most peasants would agree with me. Nobody trusts a woman King."

Abelard continues to speak as though Grantaire had said nothing. "I tried to convince him to marry Estee instead," he says calmly, and ignores his son's aghast expression. "But Ignace is unwilling to wait the years it will take for her to mature. Apparently his son is a troublemaker, and I have assured him that you will help to tame his spirit."

Grantaire coughs, then realizes Abelard is being serious and gapes at him. "Father," he begins, as he knows Abelard hates it when he calls him that (sure enough, His Majesty's mouth turns down into a mighty frown). "Would you mind telling me _why_ Ignace thinks his son is such a burden? I'm curious as to know if he is terribly ugly or much older or something else that is traumitizing."

"Don't be so dramatic," Abelard sighs. "He is but a year older than you, and there are rumors that he is the prettiest man born to our land in generations. He would be a fine king, but he holds too much compassion for his people."

Grantaire thinks of the town he supplies with free seeds and handfuls of gold, and sagely nods. "In what way is he too compassionate?" He asks.

Abelard frowns and glances at his advisors, like they might ever dream to speak ill of their king. When they look away he says quietly, "Apparently he is stirring up a revolution. Against his own father!"

Grantaire blinks, and a grin curves his mouth. "Ah, well, I am certain being married to a drunk fool will help him recover from his idealistic dreams."

"Speaking of," Abelard says dryly, "You will not drink until you are formally married. Ignace is desperate but he might find someone more suited to his son than you if you show what an idiot you are."

Grantaire has heard worse and the insult doesn't even dampen his smile. "Yes, Your Majesty," he says elegantly. "Now if you would please, I'd like to go tell Estee of the news."

Abelard gives his permission and Grantaire's personal bodyguard peels off from the group stationed at the door. He is a recent appointment, the son of some duke that dearly wants to move up and is willing to sacrifice his second heir for the chance. Grantaire resented him in the beginning but Bahorel has grown on him significantly, and he is the only one the Prince ever lets accompany him to the cities he visits.

"What news?" Bahorel asks curiously, holding open a door for Grantaire. "Are you to be married to some ugly woman with no front teeth?"

Grantaire laughs. "No," he answers, "Supposedly a man the most beautiful to ever be created."

Bahorel nearly stops on a dime. He stares at Grantaire and says, "Surely you are not speaking of Enjolras?"

Grantaire shrugs, shoulders open a door himself and gestures for Bahorel to follow. He will gossip with him, but not if it's likely an enemy might overhear (much of the staff loves Grantaire to pieces and would not dream to turn him over to his father but a different guard might, and the castle is crawling with them).

"I do not know," he says. "My father did not deem is necessary to give me a name. All I know is that he is King Ignace's son, and apparently a hellion."

Bahorel whistles. "I can't believe you got handed _Enjolras_ ," he says. Grantaire looks curiously back at him, his raised brow clearly asking for more information. "He goes down and talks to the people about reforms, about how he could change the laws and what would benefit them the greatest. He's admitted that his father allows him no power but if they rise up King Ignace will have no options but to listen."

"Shit," Grantaire says, with no small amount of admiration. "I can't believe I'm getting married to a revolutionary."

Bahorel laughs and says, "I cannot wait for the ceremony."

Estee is sitting outside her room, and she stands when they approach. "Bahorel!" She says happily and lifts her arms. He laughs and bends over to pick her up, cradling her against the cool chestplate of his armor.

"What happened, brother?" She inquires seriously, looking at Grantaire from her elevated perch. "What did Father tell you?"

Grantaire grins at her and says, "I am to have a husband," and she crows in delight. He steps inside her room and they follow, Bahorel going to sit on the bed (and despite the lure of the soft blanket she remains in his arms).

"Who is he?" She asks excitedly. "Have we met him?"

"No," Grantaire answers, sitting beside them. "His name is apparently Enjolras; he is King Ignace's son. Do you recall what country they rule?"

She screws up her face but she knows this; she takes private lessons from a tutor who was bribed to come here, and he has encouraged her to be studious. "It is Aequus, is it not?" Grantaire nods and she beams. "They used to be famous for their just rulers, but Ignace is greatly disliked by many contemporary kingdoms."

Grantaire blinks at her and she giggles, admits with a soft blush, "I sometimes read Tutor's books when he is outside the room."

He ruffles her white-blonde hair, so like her mother's, and kisses her forehead. "There's no shame in that," he tells her, and Bahorel agrees. "If he is coming from Aequus, how long might his journey take?"

She counts the days on her fingers and says thoughtfully, "A week and a half if he has no delays. Perhaps up to a month if Lady Luck does not shine on him."

"A week and a half," Bahorel repeats, surprised, as he did not consider that Enjolras was going to be coming immediately here. "You have a week and a half to look presentable, Grantaire."

Grantaire snorts, but before he can reply Estee says cheerfully, "It will take brother much longer than that." All three of them laugh, and Grantaire does not worry about it when he reaches for his wine (he has nine days, after all, and a little alcohol now cannot hurt him).

**Author's Note:**

> so I was totally going to write the next part to Ashes to Ashes because like three of you guys have requested it but then this happened, and I'm sorry not sorry? I got the idea of how horrible a prince Grantaire might be and then thought of how awesome Enjolras would be, and then wondered about arranged marriages and revolutions and peasants and well, here you have it
> 
> this land generally looks like old-school Earth, just picture that. Enjolras' land, Aequus, lies to the South while Grantaire's is to the North
> 
> hit me up with any questions about the characters, lands, whatever
> 
> more importantly than that I will turn this into a series if you guys are interested, but if not I'll just let it sit here. so it's especially important you let me know if you like it or not, and kudos and comments will be doubly appreciated
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest if you'd like to talk, request something, or just be awesome


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